


the yeah yeah yeah song

by keptein



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternative Universe - Music Festival, M/M, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4371326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptein/pseuds/keptein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And the light from the stage catches in the guy’s hair, so blond it shines white like a beacon, like one of the stars overhead. Tetsurou leans over and yells in his ear, hand on one solid shoulder, “Cool hair!”</p>
<p>“You too!” the guy yells back, “I dig the sex hair look!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	the yeah yeah yeah song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eicinic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eicinic/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [The yeah yeah yeah song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9488084) by [WTF_Haikyuu_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_Haikyuu_2017/pseuds/WTF_Haikyuu_2017)



> dear gin. happy birthday!!! you are incredibly inspiring and your art is beautiful. i'm so lucky to know you. i hope you enjoy this - i played around with the style a little bit, hopefully in a good way, and i focused a lot on music because i know how important it is to us both as a source of inspiration. unfortunately, this ended up being a lot more bokuto & kuroo-centric than i was initially planning (with kenma and akaashi only making rare appearances), but c'est la vie, and all that. this is posted like 10 mins after finishing, but thanks to bishop for giving it a quick readthrough! _the yeah yeah yeah song_ is by the flaming lips, and the fic was written while listening to that on repeat.
> 
> as for the kai/yaku - listen. it surprised me too.

He notices him on the second day of the festival. It’s evening; some German house DJ is playing, the bass thrums so heavily his heart is beating double time, the ground is packed with people and the sky is packed with stars, far outside the city. When the DJ tells them to shout, they scream, and when he tells them to dance, they stomp on the hard-packed ground, cheering and grinding and jumping around. It feels like Tetsurou’s never been anywhere but here, buzzed and laughing and yelling with strangers and new friends alike.

And the light from the stage catches in the guy’s hair, so blond it shines white like a beacon, like one of the stars overhead. Tetsurou leans over and yells in his ear, hand on one solid shoulder, “Cool hair!”

“You too!” the guy yells back, “I dig the sex hair look!”

In thanks, Tetsurou presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek, skin rough under his lips, and the guy laughs, arm coming up to grip him around the waist. Then they jump up and down together to the beat shaking through them, people pushing in from all sides until it’s two hours later and Tetsurou’s head and heart are pounding hard, stumbling back to his tent, and he’s long forgotten about the guy.

So he kisses him on day two, but it’s on day three they meet. The sun is hot overhead and Tetsurou’s been sent to get food, because Yaku only managed to walk three feet from the tent before he threw up, and Kai doesn’t want to miss some kickstarted bluegrass group. Because he's a nice guy, Tetsurou goes and stands in line for two outrageously priced bowls of ramen, and that’s where he meets him again.

“Hey, sex hair!” someone shouts loudly, and it says a lot about him that Tetsurou turns upon hearing it, even though he doesn’t recognize the voice.

“Oh, hey,” he says, shuffling a little as the line moves towards the counter. He remembers the guy vaguely, but he looks better in the sharp noon sunlight, grinning wide and still with that wild, outrageous hair. “I didn’t catch your name last night.”

“Bokuto,” the guy says and lines up next to him, jostling their shoulders together. “What’s yours?”

“Kuroo,” Tetsurou says, returning his smile. “Good show last night, wasn’t it?”

“ _Fuck_ yeah,” Bokuto says with emphasis. “Best one I’ve been to so far.”

“I was at Gazette first night, that was killer.”

“Man, I was going to go to that one, but my friend wanted to see some indie band instead. Heard it was good, though.”

They make pleasant, easy conversation, standing there in line for ramen on a hot, sweaty day. In the distance, Tetsurou can hear music, the same, familiar undercurrent that’s inescapable in a place like this. He looks at Bokuto in the sun and absently wants to kiss him again, in the way you want to kiss charming strangers, even though he’s talking shit about one of Kai’s favorite bands and laughing about it - but then the line is moving, and Tetsurou places his order, waiting patiently. Bokuto leans against the booth next to him. “Who are you watching today?”

“Don’t know yet,” Tetsurou says, shrugging. “My buddy’s sick, so I have to look after him.”

“Shame. I think we’re hanging out by stage four today, and you seem like a cool dude, you should say hi if you see me.”

“That’ll be easier if I give you my number,” Tetsurou says steadily, and Bokuto laughs again.

“Sure.” He hands his phone over and Tetsurou thumbs his in, saving it under _Kuroo Sex Hair Tetsurou_. He doesn’t want Bokuto to forget about him, after all. The woman behind the counter slides him two bowls just as Bokuto takes his phone back, and Tetsurou gestures goodbye with his hands full, a smirk on his mouth as he mouths _text me_.

Yaku’s holding a full-on pity party when he returns to his tent, complete with complimentary dark cloud, but even that is not enough to drag his mood down.

“You owe me,” he tells him when Yaku’s recovered enough to venture out, walking along the campsite. “I went to Gazette for you, so tonight we’re going to stage four.”

“Who’s performing?” Yaku asks, and Tetsurou pauses.

"I don't know."

Yaku pauses and gives him a weird look. "So why are we going?"

"I'm meeting someone." Tetsurou grins. "Got a hot date, I think."

"A festival lay?" Kai says disapprovingly, sticking his head out of the tent to watch them return. "Don't leave them hanging, at least." Yaku makes an offended noise.

"I won't," Kuroo promises. "Don't know if it'll come to that, though."

Kai gives a noncommittal hum, clearly having lost interest in the conversation already, and retreats back into the tent.

"It usually comes to that, with you," Yaku tells him, and Tetsurou shrugs, still grinning.

"So you'll come with me?"

"I'll come. Kai can go fuck himself, he can't come," Yaku says, raising his voice enough for Kai to hear it inside the tent, and Kai's melodious voice rings out in reply,

"If I were fucking myself, then at least I'd come."

"We didn't have _time_ ," Yaku starts, and Tetsurou tunes out, pulling his phone out of his pocket instead.

**From: Unknown Number**

> this is bokuto koutarou! u called urself sex hair thats impressive

**To: Bokuto Koutarou**

< it seemed a fitting moniker. we'll be there tonight, by the way. i'll see if i can catch you

**From: Bokuto Koutarou**

> nice!! i'll keep an eye out ;)

"Oh, he's grinning at his phone, this one's bad," Yaku says, and Tetsurou tells him to shut up.

To appease a jilted Kai, they go to an indie band setting up at a minor stage, pleasant tunes against the light blue backdrop of the sky as Tetsurou lies on the grass, listening. He keeps his phone on his chest, just in case it vibrates, but nothing ever comes, and he drifts off for a while, confident Kai or Yaku will wake him in time to head over.

The sun is sliding over the horizon when they finally make their way to stage four, vibrant streaks of purple and pink framing the stage. “Post-punk,” Kai says into his ear, and Tetsurou smirks.

“Alt-rock,” he disagrees. Their game, invented hours upon their first arrival to the festival, is guessing a band’s genre by the looks of them; so far, Kai is winning, but Tetsurou is pretty sure he’s been googling behind bushes. He looks around them for a now-familiar head of hair, itching to pull his phone out the minute he doesn’t spot it, but he rarely comes across as eager, and he doesn’t want to start now.

The band is good. It’s a no-pointer; industrial is neither of their categories, although Kai tries to argue that it hails from post-punk - “what doesn’t,” Yaku chimes in, and he concedes. The drums are harsh and the guitars are revitalizing, and Tetsurou finds himself grinning at the stage as the daylight finally fades, the wood-hit _stomp_ of the lead singer’s lead boots so visually loud it seems to reverberate through the speakers and call the night in.

Then there’s a hand on his arm and breath in his ear, and he’s turning around to Bokuto’s bright, untamed grin. “You made it,” he yells, and Tetsurou nods.

“Good stuff,” he shouts back, gesturing at the scene, and Bokuto’s grin gets wider, nodding widely.

“We know them!”

Tetsurou widens his eyes, nodding to show he’s impressed, and those are the last words they speak before the music turns up, rolling over the audience, demanding Tetsurou’s full attention. He loves music like this, where every bit of your body has to be attuned to what’s happening, or it just turns into noise; you have to give yourself to the music in order for it to give back.

Bokuto’s arm is warm around his shoulders, and they’re jumping again, exhilarated; it’s just as good sober, and whenever Bokuto smiles at him, there’s nothing else to do but smile back. _Shut up and listen_ , the music insists, but it’s hard to turn away.

When he heads back to his tent, Bokuto doesn’t follow, but they make plans to meet up the next day, and that’s almost as good.

Tetsurou lies in his cold sleeping bag, bleary eyes looking at Kai and Yaku, wrapped around each other and breathing softly into each other’s space, and tries valiantly to convince himself that his phone, lying warm in his pocket is _almost as good_.

In the morning, that phone buzzes twice; once with a reminder from Kenma about sunscreen, and once with a text from Bokuto.

**From: Bokuto Koutarou**

> ramen stand @ 12?? its a d8 ;)

**To: Bokuto Koutarou**

< that’s supposed to be my line, isn’t it?

**From: Bokuto Koutarou**

> u can pay instead!!!

So for the second day in a row, Tetsurou stands under the sweltering midday sun in the line for ramen. This time, he sees Bokuto approach while he waves goodbye to three friends, two looking calmly amused while the third, almost Kenma’s height, points with a grin in Tetsurou’s direction. Bokuto is turned away, so Tetsurou can’t see his expression, but he sees the hand coming up to rub at his neck. When he finally walks up to him, hints of pink are still lingering on his cheeks and ears; Tetsurou decides to be charitable and attribute it to sunburn.

“Hi,” he says, smirking at him. Bokuto’s answering smile is relieved.

“Hey.”

“Those your friends?” He nods after the retreating trio.

“Yeah, old schoolmates - or, well, Akaashi’s a year younger, but me and Saru and Komiyan are the same age,” Bokuto replies in a rush. “They’re actually called Sarukui and Komi, by the way, but you know how it is, old school names stick -”

It takes a while of listening to his babble before Tetsurou understands what’s going on. “Are you nervous?” he asks, tone coming out more gleeful than intended, and Bokuto flushes a vivid scarlet, hand rubbing at his neck again.

“Maybe a little,” he admits reluctantly. “I’ve not really…”

There’s a long pause in which Bokuto looks increasingly uncomfortable, and Tetsurou decides to take pity on him. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, moving forward to clasp his shoulder and letting his hand linger over the firm muscle before he pulls back. “Didn’t you say I was paying? This one’s on me.”

“You don’t have to,” Bokuto says, but he already looks more comfortable, broad shoulders relaxing. Tetsurou considers not blatantly ogling him in the loose, thin t-shirt he’s wearing, but firmly decides against it, and when Bokuto catches him looking, he only flushes and grins, pleased.

The ramen, when they finally reach the counter, is good, and the company is better. Initially, Tetsurou feels like he’s just along for the ride, listening to Bokuto’s sharp-fire stories and blunt jokes in one of the few scraps of shade they can find to sit in, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest. And when their bowls are empty and they’re just waiting for a better idea to come along, they’ve already found a pattern, a bridge between Tetsurou’s quick wit and Bokuto’s self-aware crudeness that leaves them both gasping for laughter, leaning into each other.

“Let’s explore,” Bokuto says finally, after a pause. “Have you checked out the camp? Like, properly?”

Tetsurou shakes his head and lets Bokuto pull him up, his hand scorching hot around Tetsurou’s wrist; but Tetsurou has never minded heat, has spent summers reveling in it, so he doesn’t brush Bokuto’s hand off when he’s found his balance. “You should show me your tent,” he tells Bokuto, who laughs.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he promises, and Tetsurou grins and pulls him along to his tent, the modest four-person tent Yaku borrowed from his forest-loving uncle. It gets humid at night, he tells Bokuto, but it’s not so bad. Bokuto pokes his head in, asking loudly which sleeping bag is Tetsurou’s, but grows bored of the spartan interior soon enough, poking at Tetsurou’s bag with his toe. “Now for mine,” he says resolutely, and they head to a part of camp further away than Tetsurou was expecting. The smell of afternoon barbecue and lukewarm beer hangs in the air, and he can hear the music from two stages at once, meshing together in what could be a sub-genre but currently only exists as off-beat noise in the distance.

Bokuto’s tent, when they get to it, isn’t much bigger than Tetsurou’s own. Tetsurou is awed by how messy it is, considering it’s only been set up for four days at most; the clutter makes it seem like its own little world.

“Not much time to clean up,” Bokuto says with a shrug when Tetsurou remarks at the mess. “Saru bought two bags, which is way too much. I’m pretty sure I only brought two t-shirts.”

“That’s way too little,” Tetsurou says.

“Yeah, but they’re my favourite,” Bokuto says, and flexes ridiculously in front of the tent. Tetsurou covers his smile.

“They do look good.”

Bokuto beams. “Do you have anything you wanna hear today?”

Tetsurou shakes his head. He never bothered to memorize the festival programs, only making note of a few key acts, and there was nothing memorable before tonight. He wants to see what Bokuto will suggest more than he wants to listen to Chinese synth-pop, in any case, and Bokuto’s grin widens.

“I have an idea,” he says, leaning closer, almost as if he’s sharing a secret. “You know the road up by the store?”

The store is one of the few places to procure alcohol, lukewarm though it may be; Tetsurou knows the area well. “Yeah.”

“I’ve thought of a trust exercise. That’s romantic, right?”

Tetsurou laughs, shrugging, says, “Sure.” Bokuto pulls on his hand and he follows, speeding up enough to walk by his side, bumping their shoulders together occasionally. “You realize we can do trust falls right here, yeah?”

“What I have in mind is way better than trust falls!”

“Fine, fine,” Tetsurou concedes. He looks at Bokuto out of the corner of his eye and catches him staring - Bokuto looks away, flushing, and Tetsurou takes his hand again with a grin. “Who knew you’d be shy, huh.”

“I’m not _shy_ ,” Bokuto says insistently. “You’re just really hot, okay.”

Tetsurou stops and then laughs. “Dude, have you _seen_ you?”

Bokuto waves a hand, but he’s smiling, something a little softer than before. Tetsurou wants to kiss him again, properly this time, but then Bokuto is pulling ahead at the sight of the road, and Tetsurou lets it be. Bokuto stops in the middle of the road, empty asphalt stretching out in both directions, people milling around the store in the distance. The music has faded to a low hum, almost silent.

“So?”

“We’re lying down,” Bokuto says, and sits down crosslegged on the pavement, looking up at him. After a beat, Tetsurou joins him.

“This is your trust exercise? Making sure I don’t get run over?”

“And you have to make sure I don’t get run over,” Bokuto says graciously. “But you go first, though.” When Tetsurou lies down, Bokuto scoots closer, leaning on one hand to smile down at him. The asphalt is hot at his back, but not so bad he has to move away. His world has narrowed to just Bokuto and the blue skies above him with such ease that it should frighten, but instead Tetsurou just feels low, surging contentment.

“You’re right,” he says after a while. “This is definitely a matter of trust.”

“I know,” Bokuto replies quietly, eyes dragging over his face, and then he straightens up again. “So, Kuroo ‘sex hair’ Tetsurou, what do you do?”

“I’m at university,” Tetsurou says. “Engineering. You’re sure you’ll see if a car comes?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it,” Bokuto reassures him. “I have everything under control. Engineering’s really cool, though, are you at Toudai?”

Tetsurou nods, trying to relax. He still feels like there are cars approaching, even though he’s never seen one on this road, and staring up at Bokuto doesn’t help, because he never seems to look down the road. “You’re _sure_ ,” he says again.

“I’m sure,” Bokuto says. “Trust me.”

Tetsurou exhales. “Tell me about what you do,” he says, and Bokuto does. He’s already hinted at his own courses, so when he tells Tetsurou he’s doing psychology, Tetsurou isn’t surprised. Bokuto is so giving that not giving back feels unfair, the kind of oversharer that puts you at ease, and Tetsurou could see him helping people easily if he ever grew out of the dick jokes.

“I wanted to do something with music when I was younger,” Bokuto explains, spreading an arm wide to gesture at the festival. “My parents wouldn’t let me pick up the drums, though, said I was too loud already. And I played sports, which kept me busy enough.”

“I did, too,” Tetsurou says, surprised - but he played soccer, not volleyball like Bokuto, and their paths never crossed. They talk about what could have been, laughingly imagining playing against each other, on the court or field; but Bokuto says he’s always been better with his hands than his feet, waggling his eyebrows, and Tetsurou laughs and thinks that this meeting isn’t so bad, either.

Then, suddenly, Bokuto grips his shoulder and pulls him up. “My turn,” he says, lying flat on the asphalt. “Make sure there are no cars, yeah?”

“I’m pretty sure this road is abandoned,” Tetsurou says, because they’ve been lying here for a long time, and he hasn’t seen any.

Bokuto shakes his head. “Supplies for the store come in. I’ve seen it. So you have to keep an eye out!”

“I will,” Tetsurou promises. “You can trust me.”

Bokuto makes a show of putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes, grin wide, and Tetsurou laughs and shakes his head. “Tell me about your friends,” he says, instead of kissing him; Bokuto does. His old schoolmates turn out to be from his high school team too, like Kai and Yaku are, and they talk about sharing spaces, the ease born out of necessity from training camps and bus travels.

“Hey,” Bokuto says, suddenly, and tugs at Tetsurou so he’s hovering over him, his shadow over Bokuto’s face. “That’s better.”

“You want me to stay like this?” Tetsurou asks incredulously, almost teetering over, but not pulling back yet.

Bokuto grins. “Yeah. ‘S nice and shady.”

“I can’t sit like this.”

“Not my problem,” Bokuto says, and Tetsurou’s already looking down at him from above, so it’s so easy to press down and kiss the smug smile off his face, a warm, chaste press of lips. When he pulls back, Bokuto’s eyes are wide.

“Y’keep doing that,” he says finally.

“Doing what?”

“Kissing me.”

“Do you mind?” Tetsurou asks, and Bokuto shakes his head, pulls him down by the collar of his shirt and kisses him insistently, rolling over so Tetsurou’s once again flat on his back on the pavement and Bokuto is on his side, licking into his mouth. He sucks on Bokuto’s lower lip, enjoying the noise he makes, and focuses on tasting the summer-sweet of Bokuto’s mouth, the ramen and the grin and the tang of good music, hidden under his tongue.

The asphalt under him is another source of heat, and with Bokuto on his side he feels surrounded by it, warm and comfortable, grinning into the kiss. When Bokuto breaks away, his cheeks are flushed pink again.

“What is it?”

“No one’s watching the road,” Tetsurou says, sing-song.

“Oh, shit,” Bokuto says, and sits up, exhaling with relief once he sees that the road’s empty. Tetsurou starts laughing, and Bokuto punches his shoulder. “Shut up, you had me worried!”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Bokuto says, and Tetsurou shrugs, smirk still in place as he leans up to kiss him again.

When they finally get up, Bokuto's lips are bitten red and he's grinning foolishly. Tetsurou knows his own smirk is just as bad, and they walk back to camp in half-steps, pressing into each other's side.

It’s dinner time, or what passes for it here, the tents casting long shadows on the hard-packed ground. They bump into Bokuto’s tent mates and end up grilling together, Bokuto excitedly watching the bits of meat and vegetable turn golden brown. “You’re so easily entertained,” Tetsurou teases, and Bokuto’s messy-haired friend huffs dryly.

“I’m just hungry,” Bokuto protests. “Trust exercises make me hungry.”

The short one’s face lights up. His name is Komi, Tetsurou thinks, although he isn’t quite sure. “Did you guys lie down on the road?”

Tetsurou nods, surprised, and the guy next to Komi laughs.

“Bokuto-san used to make us do it in high school,” Akaashi with the messy curls explains.

“It’s a good trust exercise!”

“For a date, though,” the one next to Komi - Sarukui, Tetsurou finally recalls - says skeptically.

“Well, it _worked_ ,” Bokuto retaliates quickly and then looks over at Tetsurou, ears pinking again.

Tetsurou smirks. “Yeah, it did.”

Komi hollers like he’s still in high school and Bokuto snaps at him to shut the hell up, threatening violence if he doesn’t stop. Tetsurou watches it all unfold, his smirk turning fond, and it’s only when Akaashi declares the food done that they settle back down. Bokuto’s thigh is firm against him when he sits down next to him, and Tetsurou eats his grilled vegetables and enjoys the feeling, Bokuto pressed much closer than the space necessitates.

A rare cloud passes in front of the sun, giving them a moment’s respite from the heat, and it’s like the whole camp sighs out in thanks, taking a few quiet minutes to breathe before the last night of the festival rolls over them in a wave, leaving them dizzy and wet-eyed and gasping for breath.

An in the end, that’s how it feels. Bokuto’s tent mates want to go to the Chinese headliner, so they finish the food and head over to the stage, early enough to see the roadies setting up and close enough to watch their faces while they do. It’s going to be a good concert, Tetsurou knows, his bones singing with anticipation.

And it is. The hours pass in a giddy whirlwind, and all he knows is that there’s music and it’s _loud_ , loud and fun and utterly incomprehensible, and Bokuto’s lips are warm and yielding against his even though his cheek scratches Tetsurou’s, and they’re yelling and laughing and kissing and then it’s over, just like that, and he lost Bokuto in the crowd and he’s walking home, empty-handed.

**To: Kozume Kenma**

< i think i met someone

**From: Kozume Kenma**

> yeah

**To: Kozume Kenma**

< wait, what do you mean, yeah?

**From: Kozume Kenma**

> check your snap story

With the last of his phone battery, Tetsurou stops in the dark on the way to his tent and watches his own story on snapchat - 166 seconds of Bokuto laughing, back flat on the asphalt; with meat in his mouth, being yelled at to eat with his mouth closed; in the sweaty, screaming crowd, camera panning to the stage like an afterthought.

**To: Kozume Kenma**

< okay, yeah. i’m kinda fucked

**From: Kozume Kenma**

> good luck. remember sunscreen

Tetsurou shakes his head at the only piece of festival advice Kenma has seemed to internalize and pockets his phone, heading inside his tent quietly.

The last day of the festival isn’t really a day at all; Tetsurou starts packing as soon as he gets up, poking Kai and Yaku so they can fold up the tent, and they’re done before noon while most others are still exiting their tents, bleary-eyed and yawning.

Tetsurou sits on his bag and waits for something new to come along, thumbing absently through the pictures on his recharged phone, when he hears Bokuto’s voice. “Hey, sex hair!”

He looks up, smiling. “Hey.”

Bokuto steps closer, and it must be true that he only brought two t-shirts, because this is the only other one Tetsurou has seen him in. The shadow of his figure falls over Tetsurou’s face, making it easier to look at him, and he puts his phone away. “Last day, huh,” Bokuto says, sounding almost subdued.

“Yeah.”

“When are you guys leaving?”

“We’re taking the bus at two, Yaku has stuff he needs to be back for.”

Bokuto nods and looks away. “We can probably make that,” he says. “If that’s, uh, if that’s cool, I don’t know, I wanna - when we get back to Tokyo, I’d like to hang out again.”

Tetsurou pulls him down and kisses him, long and slow and sure. “Me too,” he says when they separate. “Take the bus with us.”

“Okay,” Bokuto says, smiling. With the sun at his back, he says, “I like you.”

“I like you, too,” Tetsurou says honestly. “Better than any gig here.”

Bokuto laughs and says, “That’s quite the compliment.”

“It’s true.”

Bokuto pauses, and his features are unreadable in the shadow, but Tetsurou knows him well enough by now. “Me too. I need to go pack, then.”

“Bus leaves in an hour,” Tetsurou says, standing up. “You better hurry.”

“Dude, I have _one shirt_ , that’s not gonna take me an hour,” Bokuto says quickly, but he kisses Tetsurou’s cheek and hurries off in the direction of his own tent.

Tetsurou looks at him go, and that’s how Kai finds him a short while later. “Lover boy was by, I see.”

“Don’t call him that to his face,” Tetsurou says, sitting back down on his bag. “He’s taking the bus with us.”

“That’s cute,” Yaku says, popping out behind Kai. He’s chewing on something, the smell chemical sweet and fit to bursting when it hits Tetsurou’s nostrils. It feels like the final chapter of something, a sensory ending to a week laden heavy with impressions.

“They’re going to fall asleep on each other on the bus,” Kai tells Yaku.

“Lover boy seems too energetic,” Yaku argues, but they fall silent again when Bokuto approaches, single bag slung over his shoulder, his friends following with their own. He’s smiling, a line of sunburn straight down the middle of his nose, and Tetsurou wants to kiss it. He wants to put his head in his hands until this feeling passes, but Kenma told him _good luck_ , and he’s going to stay strong.

“We’re here and ready for the bus,” Bokuto exclaims, as if his grin isn’t loud enough. “It’s leaving soon, right?”

Tetsurou nods and they all gather their stuff one last time, walking through the camp in varying stages of deconstruction before they head to the bus stop, piling onto the one that’s waiting. It smells sweaty and stuffy, air conditioning turned off, and Bokuto grabs a window seat and gestures for Tetsurou to sit beside him. He sits down with an exhale, slumping a little against Bokuto, who’s staring as the bus fills up.

“Tired?” Bokuto asks quietly, turning his head.

“A little,” Tetsurou murmurs, resting his own head on Bokuto’s shoulder. “Got in pretty late.”

“I spent a while looking for you,” Bokuto confesses, voice still low, washing over Tetsurou’s face. “There were a lot of people, though. And ‘hottie with sex hair’ didn’t really help much.”

“It’s fine,” Tetsurou sighs, smothering his smile in Bokuto’s thin jacket. He stares out the window as the bus begins to move, watching the scenery go by, and Bokuto grasps his hand in his, twining their fingers together. “Romantic,” Tetsurou tells him, but the fact that he’s half-asleep detracts from his dry tone, and Bokuto just laughs, rubbing over his knuckles. He says something, an empty comeback, and Kuroo smiles wider, eyes slipping fully shut. The bus moves on, steadily rumbling under him, a stepping-stone from constant music to the silence at home, and it’s slowly lulling him to sleep, shuffling closer to Bokuto again.

“Told you,” Kai says quietly, and Yaku shushes him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on both [twitter](http://twitter.com/tivruskis) and [tumblr](http://tivruskis.tumblr.com) as tivruskis.
> 
> [pepplemint](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com) has drawn some gorgeous art inspired by this fic! [VIEW IT HERE](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/138752300820/me-wah-im-too-busy-i-never-upload-anything-also)


End file.
